


Onychophagia

by Pissenlit



Series: Wet By Daylight [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Nail Biting, Pants wetting, Piss, fear wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pissenlit/pseuds/Pissenlit
Summary: Turns out that getting noticed is no longer Dwight's dream come true





	Onychophagia

If there was one thing Dwight Fairfield had a knack for, it was being invisible. Growing up he’d tried his damnedest to achieve success at anything. Whether it be academics or athletics, he was mediocre at best, and an utter failure at worst.

An anxious mess, he’d never quite been able to kick the habit of biting his nails. Even in the Trials, with grease staining his hands from working on generators, he often found his fingers in his mouth, chewing away at his tender nail beds. The foul taste of oil and grease was commonplace, as was the feeling of terror. He had a knack for handling the pressure of surviving better than most, having dealt with anxiety for much of his life. He could almost hear his friends, his parents, his teachers, his bosses, even his doctor telling him to just suck it up.

Dwight also had a knack for finding other survivors, and this was no exception. He’d quickly found a young woman, and gave her a little nod, pointing to a generator he spied a few metres away. Without the pressure of having to talk, Dwight wasn’t stuttering his way through instructions.

Crouching down, he lead her along to the machine to start repairing it. He always found he worked faster with someone watching him, silently hoping to impress them. And from what he’d been told over and over by other escaped survivors was that his efficiency often inspired others to work faster as well.

Soon enough the pair completed the generator and ran off, staying behind cover as best they could. Ducking down by a crumbling wall, Dwight heard the killer approach before he could see her and his heart pounded in his chest as the melancholy humming drew near. His fingers were in his mouth soon enough and he was chewing at the ruin that was his fingernails.

Peeking around the bricks and wooden planks, he saw the imposing woman that sought to sacrifice him and his teammates alike. She was holding a hatchet high above her head, ready to hurl it at the first signs of movement. He’d been scared before, but now Dwight was downright shaking. The mountain of a woman stomped around the area, searching for signs of life. As she neared his spot, Dwight’s nerves were screaming at him to run, and he followed the impulse. The Huntress saw him, and with a bellow, she threw an axe at him. Careening to the side, he heard the weapon whiz past him and bury itself into something wooden.

Glancing behind himself, he sighed to himself when he heard another generator come to life in the distance. Three more to go. He’d hoped the sound of the generator might distract the woman, but that was wishful thinking. She was pulling another hatchet from her belt and holding it aloft.

Dwight ran into a wooden shack, eyeing the broken generator inside, he kept running through to the other side, making a hard left as he went outside, hoping to lose the woman by circling the structure. Another generator came alive somewhere on the hellscape. Two more to go.

Keeping his head on a swivel, Dwight had to watch his right and left side, unsure of which way the woman would follow. Breathing hard, he tried in vain to calm back down as he heard her gentle humming following the path he had taken. How was she so calm as she hummed that sad lullaby?

There was no time to dwell on the subject, he had to keep running. Her melody stopped as she cried out and hurtled another hatchet at him. He’d barely got his feet to move before the weapon was embedded in the side of shack. He rounded the corner again, going back inside the shack, only to run and launch himself out of an empty window. Going so quickly, he hit his feet on the windowsill with a loud bang.

Before long the woman was pursuing him again, aiming another axe at him. He tried not to run in a straight line, paranoid that at any moment and axe would be wedged into his back. He took small solace in the fact that the killers very rarely took it upon themselves to murder someone by their own hand. They seemed to be pawns, sacrificing people on hooks to whatever Entity it was that trapped them. He almost could have laughed, it was as though these brutes were working a shitty dead end job, forced to adhere to policies with what he’d assumed was no explanation. Now he was the shitty customer making it impossible for someone to do their job.

Dwight had to keep watching over his shoulder, waiting for the hulking woman to hurl her next hatchet. When put her arm back, he veered to the side and ran back towards her. The axe hit off of stone and hit the ground.

Sprinting to a cluster dilapidated brick walls, he ducked around a corner and crouched down to catch his breath. The Huntress was still on his trail and followed after him, humming all the while. His fingers were in his mouth again, his teeth working over them as quickly as his thoughts were running through his mind, trying to formulate an escape plot.

Looking through a window, he saw it. A beat up, old locker. Carefully creeping through the empty window, he went to towards it, slowly opening a door and shuffling inside. Trying to catch his breath, he peered through the vents, terrified that at any moment he would be found.

He couldn’t see much of anything, but the woman’s woeful tune was all that was necessary for Dwight to know she was still looking for him. Gnawing away on his nail beds, he didn’t stop chewing as he tasted his own blood, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t be found, that he wouldn’t wind up on one of those meat hooks.

Every passing second dragged on, and he was quaking with fear as the woman and her baleful melody passed him and seemed to keep fading. Before he could let out a sigh of relief, he heard her turn back around, he song gradually becoming louder until he could hear her heavy footsteps once again.

Cowering back inside of the locker, he regretted his hiding spot. There was only one way out, and he knew she would see him if he left now. The heavy thud of footfalls drew closer and closer to him, and Dwight knew she was coming to check his hiding spot.

He knew it was all over when he could see her through the small slits, and heard her hand on the door. At the same time, his bladder let go. Piss soaked his hip, gushing out of him in a hot stream, pouring down his leg. His stained khakis clung to his quivering legs as urine pooled in his pants and ran down both of his thighs, dripping onto the metal beneath his feet. The stench of his pee filled the confined space, and he was certain his attacker could smell and hear his accident.

And then he heard a generator come alive, and not too far away. He saw the woman’s white mask turn away from his spot. She ran after the noise, probably thinking he had helped with those repairs. Pressing his hand to his mouth, Dwight could have cried. He’d come so close to being found, only to be saved at the last minute by his teammates. He needed a moment to calm down, but there was no time for that, there never was.

Creeping out of the locker and into the fresh night air, he splashed through the puddle he’d made and glanced down at the dark streaks running down his legs. Better that than dying.

Running to the brick wall that trapped him in the Realm, he cringed at the howls of whatever was on the other side. He reminded himself to stay focused as he found himself chewing a hangnail.

Looking around for signs of a generator, he stumbled upon an exit gate just as he heard a distant scream of pain. Someone hadn’t been as lucky as he had when it came to dodging those hatchets.

Crouching down in the grass, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone finished the final generator. His slacks were cold and felt miserable, he could smell his shameful accident while he was kneeling, but he had no choice but to ignore it.

It didn’t even take a full minute for the last generator to roar to life, and Dwight sprung to his feet to grab the switch on the exit gate. Pulling the handle down, it crackled with electricity. Looking over his shoulder, he watched for signs of his teammates, or worse, the axe wielding woman. He took solace in the fact he couldn’t hear her lullaby.

When the exit gate’s alarm start to buzz he knew escape and survival were at hand. Seeing the lady he’d worked with at the start of the Trial, he gave a little nod as the gate finally opened up and he could let go of the lever. They both ran inside the vestibule, and as Dwight saw her checking out the new wet spots on his light coloured pants. Before she could question him within the relative safety of the exit gate, he kept running, leaving the trial far behind.


End file.
